A Spartan's Creed
by nicrt
Summary: All my life, I've known what I am. A Spartan, protector of Earth and all her colonies. But sometimes I doubt myself. I am more than just a soldier. I'm not arrogant. I just feel- I know- that I should fight for something else. For the peace in all things.
1. Freedom

**Disclaimer: **Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**Chapter 1****: Freedom**

_Huh._

_It was another dream._

_Or memory?_

_I couldn't really tell anymore._

_They kept on changing._

_One time it would be running through the forest or jumping off roofs._

_Others would be climbing up walls or hiking up the side of a hill._

_Now I was on the roofs. Tall, high roofs of skyscrapers. Running on them, jumping from one to another, swinging off zip lines. Insane? Yes, but it felt right. It felt normal. Dream-wise, of course. The air rushing past you, the feeling of freedom and adrenaline as you move. Exhilarating. The streets down below sounded soft when up here._

_Compared to reality, being as free as I am now really was a dream. I ran with light steps and quick speed, savouring the moment. And then a gaping hole would appear and I would drop into a bottomless hole. When I woke up- when I wake up- it would be back to normal. Back to the routine._

_My name is Arnold-124._

_I will be the best they can make of me._

Please Review =)


	2. White Team: Part I

**Disclaimer: **Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**A/N:** Revised and edited version.

**Chapter 2: **White Team: Part I

**2114 hours, October 19, 2537  
>Dashat Shah (King's Plains)<br>Planet Midgard**

A cold gust of wind stirred the small shrubs of the desert plain. The sickle-like moon above shone down upon the flat, pebbled land where several stone buildings were lined along each other, forming a large and quiet town, with pathways and roads made of pebbles and sand. An oasis stood strong within the centre of the village, it's trees tall with life and waters undisturbed.

It was a ghost town, not too long ago captured by the Covenant. And it was the hiding place of one of the Prophets of the Covenant as well. An Elite paced about one part of the area, near an abandoned building; it's feet made crunching noises on the ground, too loud for his hearing to detect the faint steps behind him.

A flash of silver caught its eye before it gave a muffled cry and dropped dead to the ground. Standing above the corpse was a tall human in green armour, an indigo-bloodied knife in hand. He shook the knife clean, sheathing it before he continued deeper into the town. The silent night gave the Spartan cover, the long shadows casted by the moon serving as his refuge while he hunted his target.

He stepped around a stone wall then quickly hid behind it; a pair of Grunts stumbled about, sniffing the air. One, two. The Grunts dropped, small throwing knives lodged into their necks. The Spartan pushed forward, sticking to the shadows.

A map of the area within his mind told him he was nearing the Prophets' sanctuary. He sprinted a little ahead, still silent and still under stealth. The Spartan stopped behind a building, peered over the side then continued on. He did so after three or four more buildings before rolling off to one side for cover.

A pair of Hunters led by an Elite were around, the huge powerful brutes like sentinels while the Elite stood guard. The Spartan cursed under his breath. He had orders to accomplish and one of them was not to take unnecessary risks. He had contemplated on taking the roofs though he could be easily seen if he did. That idea though seemed much more appealing than trying to take out Hunters with mere throwing knives and no rocket launcher in hand.

Searching for grooves in the stone wall, he used them as handholds as he climbed up the wall. Some bricks stuck out, giving him an easier route up. As soon as his feet touched the roof, he sprang forward, a blur in the air. The Spartan pushed forward, running on rooftops and leaping over ledges. His muscles, strained and taut from the constant run, burned as he stopped just after a roll.

There. He crept forward, crouching low, until he could look over the edge of a rooftop. He saw the many Elite guards, each with a staff in hand, sentries of the plaza. And the unmistakeable form of a Prophet, it's seat hovering above ground. Accompanying it was a General, walking alongside the Prophet. It's mandibles flared.

They were entering the Grand Plaza's gardens, where the flowerbeds were painted in blood red and the fountain tainted as well. The garden was encircled by buildings, once the jewel of the town, now a mark of sorrow.

The Prophet spoke in a low voice, its lips forming shapes of words. The Spartan had only minutes to complete his objectives, crouching on the ledge, he calmed his erratic heart and slowed his breath, hearing nothing else but only listening to the whispers of the Prophet.

"...burn all filth that has tainted the sacred relic. The artefact must be secured. We cannot allow the vermin humans to toy with it. Those humans," it said in disgust, "dare take it from us. Humans that left us this." he showed the General what Arnold had identified as a Rosario. "The artefact must be saved at all cost." He tosses the Rosario to guard.

The General spoke. "Of course Holy One."

"You hesitate." the Prophet stated. "Speak."

"The relic..." the General started. "It bore symbols...different from what we had founded of the Ancient Ones."

The Prophet waved a hand in dismissal. "No matter the difference, it is truly significant. The relic holds knowledge. Knowledge we must decipher. Knowledge that will lead us to Earth! It will bring us salvation. It will bring us closer to the Great Jour-"

Its last words died in the throat, along with the blade struck into it. The Elites roared in surprise, scurrying like ants as the corpse fell. The blade went deep into flesh as blood pooled at the feet of the Elites. A shadow shifted; the General noticed this and looked up at the sky, towards the rooftop.

Nothing was there.

* * *

><p>Arnold-124 boarded the Pelican as it lifted off the ground, dust and sand turning into small storms beneath the aircraft. He sat down, leaned back and heaved a sigh.<p>

"Tired?" a deep voice asked.

Arnold shook his head. He looked at the Spartan seated opposite of him. Chris-271 was taller than most Spartans, though not as big as Jorge. He was more built for speed, a trait that was common in White Team. He had his helmet off, occasionally scratching the back of his bald head.

"Antsy." Arnold said, rubbing his right armoured knuckles.

"What did you get?"

"The Covenant did steal it from us." Arnold explained. "But someone-a _human_- stole it from them."

Chris sat up straighter. "You sure?"

"_Ja_." Arnold replied. He rubbed his left knuckles. "The Prophet mentioned that whoever this person was left the Covenant a Rosario."

Chris frowned. The General had also mentioned that the artefact was...different.

"I find it odd too." Arnold said. "If it were an Insurrectionist, I doubt they'd leave something as insignificant as a Rosario."

Chris nodded then leaned back. "Whatever it is, let ONI handle the mysteries. We've completed our first objective. Now we have to wait for orders."

Arnold frowned slightly though his face was concealed from Chris. The Prophet had said that the artefact contained knowledge. Maybe even the location of Earth. The dangers and variables of such an equation was unthinkable and apocalyptic. For their sake, ONI had better solve the mystery soon.

Chris leaned forward, elbows on his knees and chin perched on his folded hands. "You know they won't just send us to get it back."

Arnold nodded. "Probably sending in Kurt or Kelly."

"They say they're sending in the big man Arnold." Chris answered slowly.

Arnold stiffened; his stomach dropped. He sat up. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Arnold leaned back in his seat, a hundred thoughts racing in his head.

"It better be worth it." he whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>2250 hours, October 19, 2537<br>UNSC Charon-class frigate ****_Sky Runner  
><em>****Epsilon Eridani System**

Arnold was in the gym of the frigate, working on the various weights offered there. He barely broke a sweat, something he had gotten used to, after the hundredth set. The man sighed, before getting off the machine. He grabbed his canteen on one of the nearby benches, popping the cap open before chugging down the water. Heaving another sigh, he sat down on the bench, lost in thought.

It had been more than an hour since he had returned to the frigate, away from the Midgard now. Since then, the unwanted feeling of anxiousness hadn't left. As a Spartan, he couldn't afford to feel anxious. At least, on the field that is. Out of it though, was a different story. It tormented him in more than one way. Firstly was the unusual item left behind, a Rosario to signify that a _human_ had taken the artefact. Secondly, the artefact was taken from the Covenant hands by humans. Thirdly, the artefact was now truly considered missing. And last but most importantly, was that White Team's mission was no longer personal.

Captain Maverick James, the one in charge of the ship and the missions, had informed them that NAVSPECWAR wanted another set of Spartans to aid them, if only to speed things up and increase the chances of retrieving the artefact. But to Arnold, he preferred the small two-man team that was now White Team. They were specially made for specific reasons; reasons such as assassinations, thefts and espionage. Granted, any other Spartan could have done the same missions. The only difference was _how_ they completed them.

White Team was unofficially created as a three-man unit, at the time when they were still undergoing training, playing war-games with Tango Company. Arnold allowed a small smile. Tango Company were fun to play with, he was sure about that. And in order to begin war-games, intelligence had to be collected, swiftly and undetected. That was how Chris-271, Arnold-124 and Irina-003 had met.

Chris was known to be quick on his feet, not as fast as Kelly, but his evasive movements while running were clocked seconds faster than Kelly. That and he could pickpocket a person with any important material needed. Arnold had lost count of how many times he had stolen from both enemy and ally alike, the former during missions and the latter during training. Chris had told Arnold that where he grew up, stealing was a survivor's way to live and if you didn't do it, you'd die. And because of this gift, they were able to get their dirty little hands on anything they wanted. A fact not tolerated by CPO Mendez before.

Irina. Beautiful, smart and secretive Irina. She was the brains behind every operation. She could hack her way through anything, intercept any transmission before anyone and think five miles ahead before anybody. A genius in technology and information, she planned out every mission White Team had. That was until she was listed as KIA by HIGHCOM. Or at least, that was the official story. Unofficially she was MIA and Arnold believed that Irina was still alive and kicking.

Arnold? He was someone who knew how to operate in the shadows and utilise it well. He was someone who disappeared just as surprisingly as he appeared. Irina had once called him 'Blink'. But that wasn't why he was a part of White Team. He was picked because he knew exactly who they needed to steal from, where they needed to go and what they needed to get. Chris said that he had a gift, for being able to know the things they needed.

In a way, Chris was right. He had a gift no one else did.

The three of them, round after round, mission after mission, would always report back with exactly the information needed. Soon after, their abilities were honed and perfected. Instead of gathering intelligence alone, they were tasked with assassination missions. It was there where Arnold shone, his prowess in the act of killing from the shadows promising. And White Team was transformed from simple information collectors to contract killers. Arnold smiled. The fond memories of his childhood, of his days as a trainee, were what he liked. Becoming the soldier he was meant to be was a part of it.

He frowned.

Despite all the happiness he found as a young Spartan, something always bit him at the back of his mind. That there was a missing part of his childhood, one that was constantly failing at resurfacing. It started its fight again, struggling to be remembered. As always, he ignored it. There was no time to dwell on it. In fact, there never was. But always, some part of him wanted to dwell upon it. Somewhere, somehow, this thing will come back to bite him mercilessly.

"White Team, this is November. You have orders to report to the War Room immediately. I repeat," the ship's AI spoke through the intercom, "Report to the War Room immediately."

Yes...no time to dwell at all.


	3. The Girl With Golden Eyes

**Disclaimer: **Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**Chapter 3: The Girl with Golden Eyes**

_I remember her well. Those big doe-like eyes, with every innocence in the world shining through. She had a light skip in her steps, as if she was dancing wherever she went. She wore this bright yellow dress when they met, which served to make her glow like the sun. Her hair was long and blond, tied into a braid._

_But I was only mesmerised by her eyes. They were bright brown in the dark. But gold in the light. They danced when she smiled and laughed when she ran. Turned thoughtful when trying to hack into something and cold when facing an enemy. Either way, they were beautiful in my book._

_I stared at her, amazement on my face when we awoke on the Pelican._

_She stared at me back._

_"What?" she asked in Russian._

_I blinked twice. "You have gold eyes." I replied in Russian, though it was heavy on the German accent._

_She laughed. It sounded like birds. "They're amber." Then she frowned. "You speak Russian?"_

_"A little. My father-"_

_Blank._

_I can't remember what I said about him. It was all just pitch black. All I could remember was Irina and her golden eyes._

_Nothing about my father._


	4. Misgivings: Part I

**Disclaimer: **Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**A/N:** Revised and edited version

**Chapter 4: **Misgivings: Part I

**2300 hours, October 19, 2537  
>UNSC Charon-class frigate Sky Runner<br>Epsilon Eridani System**

Four Spartans stood at attention, one arm down while the other cradled their respective helmet. They were all in armour, each one in stony silence as they waited for their mission briefing. Captain Maverick James stood before them, assessing each of them with a hard stare. The Spartans gave away nothing on their faces; though if the Captain didn't know any better, he swore he saw a gleam of cold determination in each of their eyes.

"Spartans, a week ago, a ONI xenoarchaeology research team had uncovered an artefact from the ruins of Greece on Earth. It was supposed to be sent to Midgard, where one of ONI's science facilities is located, for further studying. However, the UNSC frigate David's Mercy, charged with transporting the team and artefact was intercepted by the Covenant."

A holographic image of the planet appeared before them.

"72 hours later, we received intel that the Covenant forces involved with the destruction of the David's Mercy had landed on the planet, taking over the town of Paradise Land. White Team was ordered to retrieve the artefact as a primary objective and eliminate the Prophet with them as secondary. However it was stolen beforehand, not by the UNSC. But now, we know more of what had happened."

The planet's image disappeared, replaced by the head of a man wearing a mask on his face and a hood over it. The mask had three slashes across the face, much like claw marks.

"Gathered intelligence has us zeroed in on a man named the Claw. Reports on the Claw mentioned that he left a Rosario as a calling card. He's a mercenary; a gun-for-hire-thief that gained the attention of the CAA. They've been tracking him since 2520; right now he's known to be regular employee for the insurrectionist group, the Blood Palms. They're known for disrupting at least ten of our operations. And despite their actions, they have disrupted Covenant operations as well; at the cost of innocents."

Captain James looked at the Spartans. They were as still as statues.

"Your primary mission is to recover the artefact, return it back to ONI and eliminate the Claw. It is imperative that you do so. ONI has tracked him to New Chester, Zenith; your stop for this mission. We believe that he is somewhere in Southend District City, in this tower."

An image of a building, at least a hundred floors, flashed to life. It looked to be a somewhat of a triangular prism shaped and there was a prominent feature that caught easily everyone's interest: a symbol. It was somewhat the shaped of a triangle, comprised of three slanted rectangles. The Captain saw from the corner of his eyes that one of the Spartans stiffened but that movement seem to disappear back into the still stance he had.

"Blue Team, you will be retrieving the artefact. Find its location, retrieve it and then escape. White Team, you will be dealing with the Claw. Locate him and snuff him out. We will be dropping you off at O-hundred hours. Questions?"

All were still in stony silence.

"Sir."

The Captain turned to the Spartan. He was tall, with a buzz-cut that were betrayed by his blond roots. The soldier was as tall as the other Spartans, sporting high cheekbones, a hooked nose and crystal-like blue eyes.

"I recognise the building as an Abstergo company building. One of the UNSC's funders." He stopped there.

"Perhaps I could answer that unspoken question Spartan." A disembodied voice called out.

A flash of white blinded the Captain momentarily. At the edge of the table the holographic image of November appeared. He was an A.I that took after the image of an Eskimo, the hood of his parka brought down.

"Abstergo has been a generous funder of the UNSC and all her activities. However it has come to our attention that their unwavering support has been merely...a facade. They have been sponsoring other activities outside UNSC law and one of them being sponsors for various Insurrectionist activities. Most of them, coincidently, were by the Blood Palms."

The Captain nodded in confirmation. "This is why you've gotten the green light to engage the Insurrectionists on their home ground; any other questions?" Silence greeted him. "Then good luck Spartans. Dismissed."

The Spartans saluted and left, that cold determination never leaving their eyes.

* * *

><p>John was never one to have misgivings about another Spartan. With Kurt, the uneasiness he felt when working with 051 proved to be insignificant. His <em>instincts <em>as they were proved a vital asset in their team cohesion. An aspect they had not expected. Though with Arnold?

The Master Chief found he could not fully trust him. Out of all the Spartans, 124 was a Spartan he would rather not be teamed with. It was a combination of many things that sets the Chief on edge when he was around him. He was pretty sure Arnold felt the same way around him.

But that's the thing: Arnold seemed to always feel before thinking. And not in the way Kurt did.

During their time on Reach, John had learnt many things about the Spartan. He kept to himself mostly, and even if he were to interact with someone it'd be with Chris or Irina. Arnold was someone sleek and mischievous; he would always be the one inflicting the surprise attacks against the other teams. The one thing that stood out the most though was his _intuition_. It wasn't some instinct that was proven right numerous times. It was this… _feeling_ that he seemed to have. He was always so sure that whatever and whoever the objective was; he was always right about it.

John drew the line at that.

The bitterness between the two stayed as it was, never changing. And now when the two were supposed to work together, John wasn't too keen in having to rely on Arnold the whole way. Especially after Chris vouched for him and told John to at most trust him in completing his mission.

He glanced towards Chris, who was busy going through a datapad. The man ran a hand over his shaved head, frowning slightly. He tapped something on the thing, and then turned to look at him.

"We got something Boss." He said tossing John the datapad.

John caught it with ease, skimming through the contents. With careful taps, he read the blueprints, maps and a detailed roster of guard duty.

"The building's heavily fortified; guards with guns and then some. There are almost 500 personnel in total on that roster. The fun part?" Chris smirked. "200 of those personnel are guarding the 56th level."

John typed in level fifty-six on the roster; several names popped out.

"And this is relevant how?" Kelly said, leaning around John to look at Chris.

"Who in the world would put 200 plus guards on a single level?" Chris retorted. He leaned back on his seat."I bet that's where they're keeping the artefact."

John looked through the blueprints. The whole place was a fortress. Every entrance and exit was guarded. There were no ways in. He looked up at Chris.

"How're we going in?"

Chris grinned. "The hard way."

John saw Kelly grimaced.

"The whole place is surrounded by other tall buildings." John looked at Arnold, who was leaning on the closed Pelican hatch. He was looking through the porthole, his helmet resting on his hip as he held it there. "But not as tall as the one we're hitting." He nodded to John. "If you look through the blueprints, each floor has three balconies on every side."

"Again;" Kelly interrupted. "How is this relevant?"

Chris and Arnold shared a look. Chris shrugged while Arnold blew out a sigh.

"We're going to get to the 56th level," Arnold said slowly, "Without having to go through the other 55."

He realised what Arnold meant. "The space between these buildings is at least 10 metres. Even in our armour, there's no way we could do it."

He didn't like the small smirk that Arnold had on his face. That same small smirk he always wore whenever he was challenged into something he couldn't do. That was a trait that was never beaten out of him after the augmentation. Never beaten out of him after Irina's death. Arnold was still the same cocky Spartan he had met with years ago.

"We're jumping? Onto the balcony?" Kelly asked incredulously. But John noted a hint of excitement in her question.

"Aside from it being dangerous, stupid and fun," Chris said, cracking his knuckles, "It's the only other way we can do this mission quickly and efficiently. And there is one particular building that's much closer to the tower than all the others. If we can get in from there, we're clear to proceed."

"And besides," Arnold shrugged. "That's only Phase One."

John was silent as he contemplated this. On one hand, they could sneak into the building from down up. Take more time, waste more energy and risk the enemy and the artefact escaping. On the other, if they went with jumping in...

"How will we get in undetected?" John asked, tossing the datapad to Arnold.

He caught it, tapped something in then showed the screen to them. "On the 50th level, that's where security is. From this vantage point, one of us can play puppeteer and relay directions." He crossed his arms. "We only have one hour to do this."

"Who's going to take the security command down then?" John asked.

"That's your call Chief."

"You are then." John decided.

Arnold shrugged. Momentarily, John felt annoyed.

"Better not mess it up." He said, his voice cool. "We don't want a repeat of New Mumbai."

He was sure that even lightning-like Kelly had to be impressed with how fast Arnold had John pinned on the wall. Arnold's hands were curled slightly around John's neck, only kept at bay with John's own pair, holding them by the wrists. The two Spartans glared at each other: John's a cool, indifferent gaze whilst Arnold's was scrunched up into a scowl, teeth-baring.

"Irina isn't dead." Arnold hissed. John tightened his hold on Arnold's wrists.

Kelly had a hand around Arnold's neck; she had moved in as soon as Arnold had lunged. Meanwhile, Chris had placed a hand each on Kelly's and Arnold's shoulders. His grip was loose on Kelly's whilst there was more pressure Arnold's.

"Arnold. Stand down." He merely commanded.

Immediately Arnold let go, sparing only another glare at his commander. He shrugged Kelly and Chris off then stalked off to the cockpit of the Pelican.

"Don't think about it Arnold. We have a mission to complete."

Arnold responded with a grunt.

Only Chris could say that without invoking anger from the second member of White Team.

* * *

><p>Chris sighed, leaning back on his seat again. He knew that putting these two together would end up like this. The two were like a cat and a dog snarling and hissing at each other. Only, maybe Arnold was more of a leopard and John a wolf. Whatever it was, he was just grateful that this round ended on a better note.<p>

He did not want to spend another day in the med-bay just to placate the two.

Kelly sat next to him, blowing out a small sigh. "And you keep him in check."

Chris looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "He's a Spartan."

"A Spartan who thinks Irina is alive."

"I saw the vid too you know." He ran a hand over his head. "We saw the explosion. Saw it eat her up."

Kelly nodded.

A mournful silence filled the air. Chris saw the Chief hung his head slightly; his way of showing respect to the fallen Spartan.

"On to important matters though." Chris suddenly spoke, a grim smile on his face. "Can you jump from rooftop to rooftop?"


	5. Pieces, Part I

**Disclaimer:** Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**Chapter 5: **_Pieces, Part I_

_ The lady in the white coat was standing before me._

_ Was there sorrow? Regret? Shame? Guilt? Anything?_

_ I could see none in her eyes. Though, I'm sure she could see none in mine either._

_ Why should there be though? What was there to feel guilty about?_

_ I looked down, on my hands. They felt warm, sticky and covered in red. Like paint._

_ "Take him to the labs." She ordered the two men holding me. "Deja," she said to the small blue lady on the pedestal, "prepare the procedures for selective neural paralysis." Then she looked at me. "We may need to do so for this one."_

_ Four points of my arms were kept in a vice grip. I struggled but was no match for the two brutes. I was meant for speed and agility and not complete strength. They lifted me and dragged me off through the cold automatic doors of the room._

_ At a corner of the room was a man._

_ A dead man. In a pool of blood. A knife stuck out of his throat. Deep markings that only I knew of were covered by the steady stream of blood. Markings from the chain I choked him with. A chain that held a cross, hanging around his neck._

_ His name was Frederick Robertson. He was an Admiral of the UNSC Navy._

_ He was a Templar._

_ How do I know this? I don't._

_ But I just remembered it._


	6. Misgivings: Part II

**Disclaimer:**Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**A/N: **I'm back! And I finally sat down to see this through! Yay! Also I'm thinking of editing the previous chapters. Re-reading through them made me realise that the flow of the story seemed jumbled. Aside from that, special thanks to **hukomuyo **for the inspiration for this chapter~ Enjoy!

**Chapter 5:** Misgivings: Part II

**0000 hours, October 20, 2537  
>Southend District City, New Chester<br>Planet Zenith**

New Chester was once a place of despair. All around the city was nothing but bleak shadows and a darkness that had no end. Those with families kept their children off the streets and in their homes; those alone were left to fend for themselves, whether you were a child or not. Not everybody survived. And even then, only the lucky ones did.

That was when Abstergo moved in and changed things. Drastically. Miraculously. Suddenly, everyone was better. People were affording food and homes. Malnourishment wasn't a common sight among children anymore. Poverty was an urban legend among the citizens now. All in all...everything became better.

Which was why it baffled Arnold when their mission had them confronting the corporation that brought hope to a dead city. As it was, masquerading as an organization intent on making the world a better place to hide the monstrosities committed was...he didn't quite know how to put it.

Admirable? Disgusting? It was a mixed feeling Arnold had.

He barely had time to register the fist Kelly held up to signal him to wait. Skidding slightly to a halt, he crouched down just behind her, both hiding behind the wall of a ventilation fan. She turned to look back at him then faced forward. She noticed his mess-up. Peering around the corner, she motioned him to follow before speeding up.

Catching up with her was not necessarily a difficult task. He was just as light as she was; just not as fast. They stopped at the edge of the building, looking over the thousands of people bustling about and the loud traffic below. Prospering. Yet they didn't know the ones who allowed them to were also the cause of destruction. Ironic.

Arnold placed a foot on the ledge, leaning on his arms when he placed them on his leg. "A shame really."

Kelly glanced at him. Then she looked down below.

"They live like this now because some people decided to help." Arnold went on. "The same people also decided to help the bad guys." He looked over at Kelly.

She stayed silent.

"Does that make us bad guys if we destroy their hope?" He asked, knowing he won't get an answer.

Stoic and silent, Kelly continued watching the life going on below. Arnold checked his HUD; the mission clock read 5 minutes until they had to move. The pair went on like that for the next three minutes, in an dead and awkward silence.

When the Pelican dropped them off a minute ago on the Helipad of the UNSC-controlled tower, records showed a crew list of one. Officially, no one saw the Spartans, sneaking off in two directions. Supposedly, no one knew of the plan that four Spartans would be running across the city in discretion.

Said plan was simple. Two squads, Alpha and Bravo, would take off in opposite directions: Alpha towards the 56th leveled balcony and Bravo towards the 50th. Phase One. Phase Two: Infiltrate enemy tower and take command of the overall security system. Phase Three: Retrieve the artefact and kill the Claw.

Alpha Squad would of course continue on with Phase Three. Leaving Phase Two to Bravo; Kelly and himself.

Arnold mulled over Kelly's less than friendly behaviour towards him. The history between John and himself was watched by Kelly just as it had been lived through by Chris. She knew first hand as to why the two's mutual...feelings towards one another was in such a way. Arnold didn't mind her not being as nice to him as she was to Chris.

She had a family and saw Arnold as the black sheep. Arnold only saw ever saw two as his own.

"Let's move." Kelly finally stated, pulling herself away from the sight.

He followed suit, going over to the side of the building where there checkpoint was. This ledge was closer to another building, like the others that were next to each other. From afar, the tall white and blue building that Abstergo resided in shone like a Christmas tree. A beacon of hope and trust.

"Mission time: oh-hundred-oh-five hours. Starting clock. This is Blue Two. What's your status Alpha?" Kelly spoke over the comlink.

"White One here." Chris's voice crackled over the feed. "Alpha Squad is ready to begin. Sync clocks on my mark."

Arnold reset his clock to zero.

"Mark."

The counter started.

He looked over at Kelly.

"Race ya." He called over to her.

Arnold swore he heard her grin over the comlink.

* * *

><p>Kelly was speed.<p>

She was clean.

She was precision.

Arnold?

He was agility.

He was elegant.

He was fluidity.

She saw the way he moved. The way he ran. The way he leapt. Everything about him was like water. He ran with a quietness that another Spartan couldn't and jumped like a deer over the obstacles in the way. Arnold vaulted over a metal pipe, rolling onto his back and then continuing on with such smoothness it had Kelly momentarily envious. She was quick, clear and clean cut. She evaded walls with proper dexterity, jumped over poles and then kept running. It was a difference she noted.

It was also the first time she had seen Arnold in action.

Years of war kept the Spartans apart. Some met and crossed paths; others went quiet for so long one had to check if the Spartan was still alive. For White Team, they've always been singled-out. Back then during their war games with Tango, the three were always put on intelligence gathering. When their training turned to combat, they were set aside from the rest to focus on espionage rather than war.

Kelly was at first skeptical of White Team's famous espionage skills. The Spartans were all equipped and trained to the same degree; how we're they different? She saw why now. She saw the difference. The ability to move, continuing to move and then finishing it all off was something every Spartan could do. The elegance that White Team had? It was defining in itself.

The elegance that Arnold had?

The memory of her conversation with Chris, before Alpha Squad was dropped off stuck in her mind.

_"He's volatile. Unpredictable. Impractical."_

_"Yeah but he's good at what he does. And what he has to do."_

_"I'm not sure Chris. There's a lot to this equation that are unknowns."_

_"Then watch him. See the difference. And trust him Kelly."_

_"How?"_

_"He's got your back."_

"Wide gap, heads up." Arnold's voice broke through her reverie.

Surprised, Kelly leapt over the gap without heeding the forewarning. The alley yawned like a black hole in space below her; her feet dangled in the air. She fell short of the distance and her hands slipped away from the edge of the building. A pair of others grabbed her outstretched arm. Thudding onto the wall, she braced herself from hitting it hard. Kelly looked up and saw her helmet reflecting off the golden visor of another's.

"I did say watch out." Arnold quipped, pulling her up. When she straightened herself, he asked, "You good?"

She faced him, watching him from behind her visor. She nodded; lifted her fingers into the signature Spartan smile. He seemed taken aback; the tilt of his head indicated it. He nodded though and returned the gesture. They both sped off.

Arnold leapt up onto an overhanging pole, grabbing onto it. With his weight, he pushed forward, momentum causing him to further the distance between him and her. He landed, cat-like, on his feet before launching again. Rolling over a metal ventilation fan and then sliding beneath low-hanging pipes, getting up again to run.

The image of Arnold winning this 'race' was far from an outcry.

In fact, she wouldn't mind if he won at all.

_He has my back after all._

* * *

><p>It was oh-hundred-fifteen by the time they reached the rendezvous point. Arnold noted the two green lights on his motion tracker. And the several red ones up ahead. He and Kelly hid in the shadow of a high wall, scanning the area. The balcony of the 50th floor was right before them. Arnold winked green on his HUD the same time three others flashed.<p>

Phase Two was a go.


	7. Thief

**Disclaimer:** Characters/factions/items that were not mentioned in any Halo and Assassin's Creed franchise (e.g Arnold-124) belong to me. I do not own any characters/factions/items that do belong to the Halo franchise (e.g Master Chief Spartan-117, Desmond Miles).

**Chapter 7: Thief**

_I knew he was there long before he knew I had disappeared._

_There was a rustle of leaves and shocked whispering._

_He peered through the canopy below, just as I had climbed onto the large branch._

_With a whirl, the boy struck his fist out. I parried it away but grabbed his wrist as his arm flung out. Pulling, he stumbled towards me; I sidestepped then elbowed him in the back and knocking him into the tree trunk. He braced himself and lashed out with a back kick. Doing two backflips, I kept myself in a squat the way a predator waited for his prey._

_The boy stared at me with bewildered and untrusting eyes, narrowed above his nose. His hands were balled into fists, white knuckled and shaking._

_"Thief." I merely said._

_He let out a smirk. "What?"_

_"You stole from my target." I pointed to the camp where the Spartans were suppose to go._

_The mission for the Spartans was to steal the most number of flags from the trainers. Most of the trainees decided to go in as a team, sharing their loot. Others, had the idea of working alone. Like he did._

_"It's a free-for-all." The boy shrugged._

_"That's why I took it back." I took my tenth flag from my pocket._

_Surprise flitted across his face; he was impressed._

_"What do you say we steal some from the other Spartans?" He grinned evilly._

_A raised eyebrow._

_"Chief never said anything about NOT stealing from them."_

_I thought about it. Then I thought about John._

_"Okay." I replied, thinking of the frustrated look on John's face when he'd realize what had happen. "I gotta call my partner first."_

_His eyebrow raised._

_I looked down at the bottom of the tree, where Irina waited._

_"Well?" She asked._

_"Chris is coming along too." I shouted. "And we're stealing from John."_

_The look on John's face afterwards was priceless._


End file.
